Chirality
by 0utfoxed
Summary: He'd looked after her when she was ill. It was only fair that she return the favour. But unlike her condition, it was doubtful that he would ever recover. [Cloud x Yuffie - Follow-up to 'Fever'].


**CHIRALITY**

* * *

He'd looked after her when she was ill. It was only fair that she return the favour. But unlike her brief struggle with illness, there seemed little chance of recovery for him.

After Cloud's disappearance at the Northern Crater, they had found him in a hospital in Mideel, being treated for mako poisoning. Despite the doctors' best efforts, he showed little sign of recovery. The doctors claimed it was one of the most advanced cases they had seen, and that it was a miracle he was not dead already. The extreme nature of his poisoning had left him in a state of catatonia, showing little or no response to outside stimuli. "A damn vegetable," as Barret had described him.

He sat on the porch outside the hospice residence in his wheelchair, looking pale and emaciated. Yuffie sat on the ground next to him, prattling on in her usual manner, rounding off the events that had taken place since his disappearance, enumerating the quotidian details of life aboard the Highwind, and giving him the latest news, in no particular order.

The others had left for Cid's airship, but she had decided to linger for a few more moments. A gentle breeze caressed her skin, brushing over the green fields before them, stirring fresh dew from the morning rain. Despite all the hell that was breaking loose in the rest of the world, there was peace here. Calm. Something she hadn't expected to find ever again.

"...So, he bit him back," she said, finishing the latest of her disjointed stories. "After all this time, they still can't get along. Go figure."

She paused, looking up at Cloud. He was slumped over in his wheelchair, staring out into the distance, without seeing. Though she knew he could probably not hear a single word she said, she kept on talking. Just talking was strangely pleasant, one-sided though the conversation was.

"Hey, remember that time when I caught a fever, and we all had to cram ourselves into that tiny inn?" she asked. "You read me that stupid story, and we stayed up way too long.."

She smiled, thinking back to the incident in question. "Guess it's the other way around now, huh?" she said. "Kinda like I'm returning the 'fever'," she added, chuckling at her own joke. "Get it?"

Her laughter died down, and there was only silence, save for the chirping of birds coming from the trees nearby.

"It's funny how these things work out, isn't it?" she said, looking out over the verdant fields surrounding them.

He made no reply.

"Yeah... it's funny.." she repeated, trailing off, sounding more like she were trying to convince herself, rather than seeking his assent. Her smile grew wry. Despite her best efforts to sustain her sunny disposition, the last thing she felt like doing right now was smiling.

Realizing that it was growing late, she got up, dusting herself off as she did.

"...Cloud?" she asked.

Her companion remained motionless, gazing out towards the horizon.

"I've been meaning to tell you something," she said. "But there's never been a good time.."

She shook her head. Another wry smile crossed her face. "Figures... the only down time we get all to ourselves, and you can't even hear me."

She leaned over, whispering something in his ear, then drew back. "I've gotta go now," she said, giving his hand a slight squeeze. "But I'll be back soon, okay?"

If he understood her words, he made no sign of it. He did not move, or acknowledge her presence in any way. And yet, she couldn't help but think that somewhere, he was struggling, trying to breach the walls of sleep that held him back from the world.

She turned away from him, leaving something in his hands as she departed. A photograph, partly out of focus, from their visit to the Golden Saucer. Not long after their arrival, she had dragged him off on a date of sorts, and someone had snapped a photograph of them at around the moment when she had come to the decision to do so. Namely, the moment where she hand slung her arm underneath his and dragged him off to the arcades, grinning all the while. Reluctant as he had been at first, she had managed to convince him to have a good time. For a few moments, they had forgotten their troubles, and allowed themselves a reprieve from their burdens and responsibilities. The photograph remained the only memento of that occasion; a fragment of better days, frozen in time.

#

The others stood outside the Highwind's loading ramp, waiting for her. "How is he?" Tifa asked, as she returned to the group.

"The same," Yuffie sighed.

Though she did her best to remain optimistic, she knew it was unlikely that he would ever recover. Much like with Aerith, they had simply taken his presence, his existence for granted. Now, for all intents and purposes, he was gone, right when they needed him most. In the face of overwhelming odds, and with friends and allies succumbing to the conflict one after another, they were left with few options but to press on.

"Come on," Yuffie said, heading back inside the ship. "We've got bad guys to stop."

Though she could be bossy, she wasn't usually one to take charge in such a direct manner. There was something different in her demeanour, lately. She seemed driven, determined to set right all the things that were going wrong. Or perhaps she was simply out for revenge on those who had deprived her of two of her best friends. Whatever it was, the others thought, something within the brash young ninja was changing, though she herself did not yet realize it.

#

The Highwind had been up in the air for a few hours now, heading back to the western continent. Yuffie sat at the large, convex windshield at the head of the ship, watching the rain beating against the window. She watched as the ground rushed by below them, city lights passing by in the black night, merging into luminous clusters as they did. She thought about Cloud, somewhere in the distance behind them, stuck in that damn wheelchair. She watched the raindrops trailing down the windshield, wondering if he was doing better. Wondering if he ever would.

She heard the footsteps of someone approaching. Tifa, coming to check up on her.

"Do you think he'll ever get better?" Yuffie asked, without turning away from the window.

The older woman looked at her. She frowned, shaking her head. "I don't know."

_"Only the good die young," Vincent had once told them. His way of cheering people up, Yuffie figured. The gunman had a way with words. Just never the right ones._

"It's just.." Yuffie said, turning to look at her friend. "It doesn't seem fair... You know?"

"Life isn't about what's fair, Yuffie," Tifa said.

"I know, but.." Yuffie replied, frustrated by her inability to do anything. An object to steal or a face to punch, that she could deal with. But this kind of sickness wasn't something you could attack. Something that took away the things you cared about, without giving you any chance to fight back.

"I'm sure he'll wake up soon," Tifa said, though with forced cheer rather than any real conviction. "And when he does, we'll be there for him."

It wasn't much reassurance, and she could tell from the look that her young friend was giving her. She seemed distressed, agitated. Much more so than she would have expected, though whether it was concern for a friend, or something more, she couldn't tell.

"You'll be there for him," she added. "Right?"

Her words managed to elicit a response from Yuffie at last, acknowledging her feelings. She nodded, managing a small smile, before turning back to the window and the rain.

#

The night drew on. Yuffie had nodded off some time ago, sleeping in the curved surface of the windshield. Tifa came up to her again, wrapping a warm blanket around her shoulders. The area near the windshield was always colder than the rest of the airship, and she was liable to catch a cold if she spent the night there.

"It would seem you have a new rival," Vincent said, coming up behind them. He, too, appeared to have noticed the subtle change in Yuffie's demeanour.

"No-one said we had to be rivals," Tifa said. Once was enough, and in truth, she had not wanted her rivalry with Aerith to begin with. At its height, it had seemed likely to tear the group apart from the inside, serving as an impediment to their friendship, their unity. Now, she was gone, and Tifa could not help but wonder if things might have been different had they not been so consumed by something that, in hindsight, seemed so trivial. But a rivalry of this sort was never simple.

"No, I suppose not," Vincent said. "Still... she has been rather upset lately, hasn't she?"

"She's worried," Tifa said. "That's understandable."

Vincent shook his head. "I think we both know this is something more than concern, even if she does not. Not yet."

Tifa bit her lip, but said nothing. She knew that Vincent was right.

"'Sleep is pain's easiest salve'," he said, brushing a lock of hair from the young girl's eyes. "'And doth fulfill all offices of death, except to kill'."

His soliloquy concluded, he drew away from her again. "You should get some rest, too," he said, looking over at Tifa, his diction quiet and gentle.

"I will," she replied. "Thanks, Vincent," she added, smiling at him.

He nodded, by way of saying 'good night' to her, then returned to his own quarters. The ship had been left on autopilot for the night, leaving Yuffie the only person left in the ship's darkened bridge. Enveloped by the sound of rainfall and the gentle hum of the airship's machinery, her agitation gradually gave way to a peaceful sleep.

#

The hospital staff concluded their last rounds for the day, gathering their patients in the recreation hall for a few moments before the scheduled bedtime. Cloud sat in his wheelchair, unmoving, surrounded by other patients suffering from the same condition that he did.

The doctors and nurses went about their work, making final check-ups on each patient's health in turn. They did not pretend that they could offer much more than palliative care. They knew that few people healed from this condition. Fewer still ever made full recovery.

Cloud turned his head slightly, dimly aware of his surroundings. There was something in his hand. A photograph. He ran his thumb across its surface. As he did, something in his mind dislodged itself. A buried memory, surfacing, breaching the dormancy of his consciousness.

"You.." he whispered.

One of the nurses, walking by, stopped and looked at him. "Did you say something?" she asked.

But he was fading away again. He looked up at her, seeing nothing. The photograph fell from his hands, dropping to the floor as he went into convulsions. The nurse called the other staff over to help stabilize him, and get him back to his room.

Later in the night, the tremors ceased, and he sat still once again. He could hear the sound of rain beating against the window. The nurse had come by, placing the photograph back into his hands. He stared at it, unable to recall where it had come from. He couldn't remember what had happened to him, or who he was. He couldn't remember anything at all. But as he continued to look at the photograph, he could sense something wending its way to the surface, more feeling than recollection.

Another memory stirred in his mind.

Of fireworks.

Of laughter.

And of her.

**The End**

* * *

**Author's Ramble**

Another quick one-shot. Hope you guys enjoyed it. I wouldn't mind writing more, but there are a lot of things in "real life" clamoring for my attention these days. Speaking of which, I've probably got half a dozen half-completed chapters for everything from 'Empires' to 'Waiting' laying around on my laptop, so if there's something specific that you guys would like me to update, drop me a line and let me know.

After finishing 'Fever', I got this little idea for a follow-up of sorts. It's partly based on the fan art I've borrowed for the thumbnail above. If someone could point me to the original artist, I'd be much indebted to them. I might perhaps continue with this series of vignettes if inspiration strikes. I thought it would just be a one-shot, but it might be turning into a story in its own right. We'll see.

(Also, for those interested, Vincent is quoting "The Storm", by John Donne.)


End file.
